


make up my heart

by oryx



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding a corporeal form is a taxing process for any ghost. Moreso when you have some very specific requirements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make up my heart

**Author's Note:**

> thanks undertale for giving me a Feel about this ridiculous robot

Scouring around through the garbage dump is _so_ completely un-glamorous.  
   
But. Well. One does what one must, right? The economy being what it is, it’s only practical to get a few things secondhand.  
   
And stooping to such lows is worth it, in the end, when you find treasures like _this_. An old VHS in surprisingly good condition, with only a hint of water damage that doesn’t seem to have reached the film. No box, but the fine print on the label making it quite clear: this came from Above.  
   
A human movie.  
   
If you had hands, you would clap them together in delight.  
   
You consider yourself a bit of a collector, you see. A “Connoisseur of Human Artifacts,” which is what you have written in the description section of your wildly popular blog. Only interesting items, of course – you don’t want some human’s worthless old junk. It’s their films, their music, their _art_ that intrigues you most of all. The creations of your own kind pale in comparison. Monster dramas are so plodding and slow. Monster concerts have no flashing lights, no glitter, no PIZZAZZ. (The word “pizzazz” doesn’t even _exist_ down here. It’s a travesty, really.)  
   
Imagine having unlimited access to everything humankind has ever made. The thought would make you weak in the knees, if you had them. Oh, you can’t _wait_ until the king finally breaks the barrier.  
   
For now, though, you’ll have to settle for watching this slightly-waterlogged videotape on your cousin’s ancient VCR.  
   
“Blooky, you won’t _believe_ what I just found,” you say as you slam their front door open.  
   
They blink up at you from where they’re huddled on the floor, headphones on, undoubtedly listening to one of their bizarre mixtapes. “It’s ambient spookstep,” they’d insisted a few days back, but it all just sounds like noise to you.  
   
“Is it another weird human thing?” they ask.  
   
You narrow your eyes at them.  
   
“…Oh,” they say, looking crestfallen. “I’m sorry… I was just supposed to say ‘no, what,’ wasn’t I? Ohh… I’m always messing it up.”  
   
“Never mind that,” you sigh. “Let me borrow your TV for a minute.”  
   
You fiddle around with the VCR until it finally turns itself on with a sad, tired-sounding whir. (Is it possible for appliances to take on the personalities of their owners?) You slide the videotape in and –  
   
It’s magical. That’s what you think as you settle in to watch, transfixed. You don’t understand the language they’re speaking but the costumes! The colours! The songs! The way their hands move tells the story just as well as words ever could.  
   
Thirty minutes in, you pause the video and drift over to stare at yourself in the mirror.  
   
You’ve always found humans to be beautiful. Those delicate, angular faces and long, expressive limbs. They can say so much – _convey_ so much – with only a blink of their eyes or a flick of their wrist.  
   
You turn a bit; wink coyly at your reflection, just like that human on the screen. But your eyes remain as vacant as always, wide and oval and lifeless, and you can feel that familiar irritation prickling at the back of your mind. You try to create an arm for yourself, a hand, with fingers that move and dance, but when you look into the mirror you see only a vague, formless appendage, its presence even more tenuous than the rest of you. It vanishes like a wisp of smoke as soon as your concentration weakens.  
   
“Blooky,” you say, and your voice seems to lack its usual punch. “Have you ever felt as if you were… meant for a different life? Meant for something _more_ than just this?”  
   
“Ohh… no,” they say, after a moment of thought. “No, if anything, I’m probably meant for less…” They tip over slowly, then, until they’re lying face-down on the floor. You stare at them for a minute, expectant, but they show no signs of elaborating (nor of moving from that spot any time soon).  
   
You turn back to your reflection with a sigh. You could’ve sworn you were more opaque when you were younger.  
   
Give it a few more years and you might just disappear completely.  
   
  
   
  
   
“I’m looking for a body,” you say, and the old man who runs the thrift shop raises an eyebrow.  
   
“Goin’ the possession route, eh? That’s not all fun and games, yanno. Or so I’ve heard. Not exactly capable myself.” He grins. “But if yer mind’s made up… Got a wide variety of practice dummies in the back. A couple mannequins, too. And I know a guy in Snowdin who’s just gone into the antique suits of armor business.”  
   
“… But,” he says, reading your obviously unimpressed expression, “I get the feeling you’re looking for something special, ain’tcha?” There’s a glint in his eye as he strokes his beard. “Something we surely don’t sell around these parts. So one’s gotta wonder why yer askin’ at all.”  
   
That, you’re not sure you have an answer to.  
   
“Y’know what I think?” the old man says, and leans in a little closer. “I think the people we’re meant to be will always find a way to make their appearance. Just gotta be a little patient sometimes, is all.” He raises both eyebrows this time. “Now get outta the way, kid. You’re not buyin’ anything and you’re holdin’ up the line.”  
   
There is no line (there is never any line), but you’re too busy puzzling over his words to complain about it.  
   
  
   
  
   
This week there is only one other attendee at your Human Fan Club meeting.  
   
However, this is up from the usual “zero other attendees,” so you will grudgingly consider it a success.  
   
Though she stammered a great deal while introducing herself, you’ve gathered that her name is Alphys, that she’s a scientist working on [something mumbled you couldn’t quite catch], and that she loves “totally sophis…sophisticated human culture things, a-and definitely not cartoons [pause for nervous laughter] or anything l-like that.”  
   
It’s nice, to have someone to converse with who really, truly _gets it_. You’ve spoken with people online, of course, but few of them ever seem to possess the same enthusiasm as you. Alphys definitely has enthusiasm. Though for what you aren’t entirely certain. She doesn’t seem to know anything about theater or fashion or the most influential pop acts of 1983, and yet nods along excitedly nonetheless. You get the feeling she might be happy just having someone talk to her. (Well then, you think. If that is your solemn duty in life – to ease the pain of sad, lonely souls by speaking at length about yourself and your interests – then you will carry that burden as best you can.)  
   
You’re halfway through a rant about how people just don’t appreciate the genius of Starlight Express when Alphys abruptly blurts out:  
   
“DO YOU LIKE ANIME?”  
   
You blink at her. She’s sweating rather profusely, and her smile is contrasted by the look of sheer anxious dread in her eyes.  
   
“Darling, I have no idea what anime is,” you say. “But it sounds glamorous. Tell me more.”  
   
Which is how the two of you wind up on the couch, watching something called “Mew Mew Kissy Cutie” together. Animated humans don’t intrigue you nearly as much as the actual thing, but you can’t deny there’s something enjoyable about it. Or rather… there would be, if Alphys could stop pausing the DVD every few minutes to ramble about each scene’s significance.  
   
“A-and here, her inviting Koichi to the fireworks festival! Is really important! Since she’s basically saying that she accepts him even though he’s not human! I, uh.” She fidgets in her seat for a moment. “I guess I thought you might like this episode? Since I r-read on your blog about you wanting a body! And since you like humans s-so much, I just kind of thought – ”  
   
“You read my blog?”  
   
Alphys freezes, eyes gone very wide behind her glasses. “Oh god,” she whispers. “Is that weird? That is weird, isn’t it? Oh no, oh no…” She wrings her hands together. “It was just really hard f-for me to work up the courage to come to one of these meetings. So I read your blog for a while to make sure you were someone I could talk to, but that’s probably creepy isn’t it? I’m creepy. You’re creeped out. Oh no oh no oh n – ”  
   
You smush a pillow into Alphys’s face to get her to shut up.  
   
“Please, Alphys. What kind of celebrity would I be if I didn’t like meeting fans?”  
   
“Celebrity?” she echoes. You graciously choose to ignore her incredulous tone. “S-so you don’t mind that I read every single one of your personal blog entries?”  
   
“Certainly not.”  
   
She lets out a shaky breath, then, laughing from the sheer relief. “Oh thank goodness. That’s – that’s great. That’s. Yeah. I mean… I was thinking, as I read your blog, that m-maybe I could try and build you a body? If you wanted? N-not to brag or anything, but I _have_ won a few blue ribbons at the Hotland Robotics Fair. I could make it look really amazing! Probably! Like real-life anime, or something.”  
   
“… Really? You would do that?”  
   
Alphys nods vigorously. “Actually, I’ve already drawn up some sketches of my idea for it!” She reaches down to rummage through her bag, procuring a sketchbook and flipping through it (you catch a glimpse of a page full of nothing but huge, sparkly eyes) until she reaches the page she’s looking for.  
   
“Like this,” she says, and turns it towards you with a nervous smile. “W-what do you think?”  
   
If you had any kind of respiratory system, your breath would get caught in your throat.  
   
“It’s perfect,” you say.  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
The human flips your switch.


End file.
